


Hindsight

by LadyLace



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Canon Het Relationship, Death from Old Age, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Old Married Couple, Post-Canon, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5270600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLace/pseuds/LadyLace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, Arthur thinks he should have seen this coming. The hidden goodbyes at the end of conversations, and the strange faces he’d seen Merlin giving him when he’d thought no one was looking. Like he'd known this would happen. The king really should have known. Perhaps, though, he didn’t want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hindsight

**Author's Note:**

> I should explain, perhaps, that this is an alternate take on what I think would have happened if Arthur hadn't been the one to die at Camlann. This fic is very, very sad. I recommend a teddy bear. And tissues. Lots of tissues.

In hindsight, Arthur thinks he should have seen this coming. The hidden goodbyes at the end of conversations, and the strange faces he’d seen Merlin giving him when he’d thought no one was looking. Like he'd known this would happen. The king really should have known. Perhaps, though, he didn’t want to.

Arthur also thinks he should have seen _this_ about Merlin sooner. Honestly, Merlin was a shit liar to begin with. The king wasn’t sure how the idiot had managed to keep this secret for so many years. The secrecy and the lack of trust hurt. Even if Arthur understood that it wasn’t that Merlin didn’t trust him. He just wanted to avoid putting Arthur in that position. So, the idiot had decided to keep it all to himself. How did two of his knights manage to discover it, but he’d remained blissfully ignorant? How had that happened?

“Arthur,” the damn fool murmurs quietly, “I would have done this long ago if it meant it’d save you. Camelot never needed a sorcerer; it always needed a king.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

The bloody idiot smiles and coughs, “You should know that I’ve never been able to listen to you. That hasn’t changed.”

“That’s true, but this time I might make you.”

“Nah, you like me too much.” Merlin grins all lopsidedly. Arthur’s heart squeezes in his chest. And it aches.

“That’s right, Merlin, I do. You know, I never wanted you to change. The bantering, the sarcasm, the jokes, and all of it. I never wanted it to change.”

The sorcerer looked surprised for once. Then, he smiles brilliantly and it’s all Arthur can do to stop himself from crying.

“I never wanted you to die for me, Merlin. Death won’t be cheated.”

“I know: my life for yours. A sacrifice you’re all too familiar with. I’m sorry.”

The king grimaces at the reminder of his mother. “How long…?”

“I’ll tell her you said ‘hello’. And I’ll rub it in Uther’s face that you’re the best king Camelot’ll likely ever see.”

“Don’t go,” the king whispers.

“Arthur? Are you still there? I can’t see–”

“I’m here. I’m here.” He grips his manservant’s hand and doesn’t try to keep the tears from falling.

“Tell Gwen… Tell her… Tell her I kept you safe. That I brought you back to her. Tell Gaius… Tell him I’m glad I got to know him. That I’m glad I came here. Don’t punish him, Arthur.”

The king knows what he means. Gaius must’ve known too, then, that his best friend has magic.

“I wish– you hadn’t have had to find out this way. I meant to tell you. I was going to tell you, actually, after this battle. It seems I won’t quite make it. I’m sorry, sire, but you’ll have to have George polish your armor and bring your dinner. And I… I won’t be… able to wake you up in the mornings… anymore. You’re a demon just after dawn, so don’t… be too harsh… on him, okay?”

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice cracks and his knights around him look distraught.

“Thanks, Arthur, for being the other side of my coin.” The smile slackens and Merlin’s eyes drifted shut. His hand goes limp in Arthur’s hold.

The king feels as if his heart has stopped beating. As if it’s been torn from his chest and then trampled underfoot. Merlin was not supposed to die. It was Arthur who had been stabbed in the back by Mordred. Arthur, who had laid dying only for Merlin to reveal his hidden talents. Then, it had been Merlin who was lying in his place. Merlin, who had explained that this spell would have them switch places. That Arthur would not die in this fight and would continue to pave the way for “Albion”.

It was not supposed to be this way. Mordred would pay for his crimes. For his betrayal.

It was not supposed to be this way. Now all Arthur could think about, as they covered Merlin’s body with a red cloak, was what he was going to tell Merlin’s mother. And Gaius.

They ride back to the castle in a cold, gloomy silence. No one speaks. They are not smiling or lifting the banner when they stroll in to the lower town. The villagers shrink back and realize things must have gone horribly wrong. They do not shout. They do not cheer. They stare after the knights with grave expressions and wonder about the wooden cart being towed behind two horses.

Arthur dismounts his horse in front of the castle. The dirt is hard beneath his feet. The doors seem imposing. He walks with his head turned down.

He knocks on the physician’s doors. For a second, he hopes the old man doesn’t answer; hopes he’s out on his rounds.

A moment later, Gaius opens the door. “Ah, sire, have you wounded yourself again? Where’s Merlin? I’d have he thought he’d have patched you up well enough.”

“Gaius.” The old physician is distracted by some medicine he’s cooking up and goes to stir it.

“Hm? Yes, sire?”

“Gaius.” Arthur clears his throat to get the man’s attention.

“What, what is it?” The physician looks up and reels at the somber look of the king. He takes in the blood and the dirt. His eyes search the king’s blue ones. They are full of guilt, of despair, and of heartache. Gaius knows these eyes.

“Sire, what has happened to give you such a grim look?”

“Gaius,” the boy’s voice is thick with emotion, “I… I am so sorry. Merlin… Merlin took good care of me. But I… I couldn’t stop him from doing so at his own expense. It was supposed to be me. Not him.”

A terrible feeling rolls in the old man’s gut. A dark, ominous cloud that threatens to make him lose his lunch.

“Sire, where is Merlin?” Gaius begs all the gods and spirits he can think of to please not let it be so.

“… In the courtyard, Gaius. He said–” Arthur chokes back hot tears, “–he said he won’t make it to dinner tonight.”

Clarity stuns the old man into sitting on his bed. Is this a prank? A terrible, awful dream?

“He’s… He’s… Gone, Gaius. He died for me.”

No. No, no, no, no, nO. NO.

Arthur hears a gasped out sob and then heard cries so filled with agony that he doesn’t recognize them as coming from Gaius. The man is hunched over and howling his grief into his hands.

Arthur hates himself more with every cry he hears.

Gwen reacts in much the same way. She locks herself in the room and refuses dinner and breakfast.

Hunith seems to shut down entirely. She collapses to her knees and sits there shocked. Until she revives and beats Arthur's chest with closed fists and heart-wrenching sobs. She falls to the floor again when he tells her he couldn't have asked for anyone better, and hands her the neckerchief he'd worn that day. She clutches it tightly and breaks down into heavier crying. She's inconsolable, so Arthur leaves and rides back to Camelot.

It seems everyone is grieving. The cooks keep serving all the foods Arthur knows were Merlin's favorites, the maids refuse to clean out his tiny room, the patients he'd given medicine to for some time all bring Gaius gifts and their condolences. Everyone is mourning, but Arthur has not cried since he'd held his dying friend in arms. He does not cry until later, during the funeral where he gives a speech, honoring Merlin and then declaring the use of magic legal, but with some restrictions. He thinks he's made Merlin proud.

He also thinks that the manservant would be embarrassed to know that he's named his two sons Gwaine and Lance, and his first-born daughter he named Marilyn. Gwen's pregnant with a fourth, and Arthur has every intention of calling her Freya. He thinks Merlin would be emotional and flattered. His children are all grown up, and he's old and grey.

Gwen is sitting by his bedside. She's still beautiful with her long, grey curls. With her tanned, wrinkled skin. She's petting his hand gently and humming softly under her breath. She tells him Marilyn will be a fine queen. That her coronation will be put off. She tells him about their grandchildren and how Marilyn's going to marry that baker's son. She tells him that Lance is going to have his fifth anniversary with Carol soon and that they're expecting a third child they're to name Gaius. She talks about Gwaine's betrothed Hunter, Percival's son. And how it's about time that kid settled down. She tells him that Freya has fallen in love with a prince of Mercia.

Then, she tells him he can't leave. That he needs to be there for Freya's and Gwaine's weddings. She asks him not to leave her by herself. That he should see their daughter's coronation, because damnit he wasn't supposed to get sick like this.

Arthur just smiles at her and tells her Merlin, that bloody idiot manservant of his, is waking him up. He's just too damn annoying to ignore anymore. He whispers goodbye, and then shuts his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what came over me. I usually avoid MCD fics like the plague, but as far as I'm concerned if you ship Merthur you've already set sail on the Titanic. We're a bunch of masochists we are. So maybe this fic will see some traffic after all. I hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
